The King and I
by Selene Sokal
Summary: A discovery about Jaune's lineage draws the whole school into a debacle about royalty, romance, and politics. This story follows Pyrrha's perspective, as she's left to observe the chaos from the sidelines, wondering about her relationship with what might be the heir to the throne of Vale.
1. Pyrrha

It had started as a strange morning from the beginning. Pyrrha was in a state of resentful sluggishness, grumbling at the audacity of a world that expected her to get out of bed when she was still tired, and yet, at the same time, in a state of almost transcendent serenity, so well ensconced on Cloud 9 that all the troubles of that world were a thousand miles beneath her. Both had the same root cause: she'd stayed up far too late last night, on the rooftop, stargazing with Jaune. So what if her mind and body were well past their comfort zone, facing a day of almost certain physical exhaustion? Her heart was practically singing as she tied her laces, adjusted her circlet, and readied herself for breakfast.

Of course, her morning enthusiasm would be particularly short lived from a sudden, almost-certainly-RWBY-related, banging on the door. She winced, as she felt Cloud 9 dissipate around her. Ren was the one to get the door, for all that it mattered, as a short, white-haired girl shoved him aside and stormed into the room. Yep. Cloud 9. Gone.

"ARC!" She shouted, as her partner jumped to awkward attention. Pyrrha gritted her teeth and tried to pull some deep reserve of politeness up for the girl who had everything she ever wanted, and never appreciated it. "Could you _please,_" with no politeness found, Pyrrha focused on just keeping her mouth shut, "explain to me who the _Sang Bleu_ society is, and _how_ do you know them?"

Jaune rubbed his neck, "Oh. Uh, they're, um, well—how did this come up?"

Weiss huffed. "My father called this morning. They _apparently_ found a photo of the two of us in Vale and," she started jabbing her finger into Jaune's chest, "drew some _fairly! Extreme! Conclusions! _from it."

Ah. An already sore subject for Pyrrha, made even sorer by learning that there had been photos, and those photos looked exactly as she assumed they looked like. Earlier in the week, Ruby had had the idea to try and keep Blake from killing herself through overwork by making "Operation: Find Out What the White Fang is Doing With Roman Torchwick" (a name Ruby refused to shorten) a joint RWBY-JNPR operation. Ruby proved to be a surprisingly canny leader in this, figuring out how to make use of their individual strengths and personalities in a way that made them more effective than eight teenagers really ought to be—and part of that was realizing that a teenaged Faunus introvert wasn't going to win the charm offensive with shop owners. But Weiss Schnee had the standing, access, and, when she remembered she had it, people skills to get answers. Ruby, second only to Pyrrha herself, also knew that Jaune had some legitimate talents of his own, even if he was… fairly Jauneish in terms combat. But he was sent with Weiss in the hopes that he'd be able to pick up some unobserved detail that everyone else had passed over, which, even Weiss had to admit, he'd proven himself capable at that. Pyrrha had very much wanted to go along, but Ruby had vetoed that option—a little too odd to have _two_ celebrities investigating Dust store robberies. Weiss had the _noblesse oblige_ to excuse her interest, and Jaune was enough of a nobody that the two of them got to enjoy a fun day in Vale that Weiss insisted was not a date and the part of Pyrrha that Pyrrha didn't like insisted it was.

Jaune interrupted her reverie. "They're a bunch of creeps. I'm really sorry if they got you in trouble with your dad, and really, really sorry if it made things awkward. They used to bug my dad a whole bunch when I was a kid, and he always said they weren't ever worth listening to."

"I'm sorry," Ren made a rare interjection, "but why would the _Sang Bleu_ Society have an interest in Schnee family business? They're a Valean society, they're not particularly invested in Atlesian family issues."

This was starting to get confusing. "I'm sorry Ren, but _who_ are they?"

Ren sighed, "It's a club of old, moneyed families across Vale. It's a social club, they do charity works across the region, fairly… self-important, but we stayed in one of their shelters for a while, but…" He nodded to Nora.

"I started a fire!"

Before she could start explaining the story, Weiss cut her off. "_Apparently_, they think this _dolt_ and I are dating, and… they approve."

"Oh." Jaune said. Then realization hit him, "_Oh._"

"And now my father…" she struggled for a moment, as though the words were painful to speak, "_also_… a-approves." She practically spat out the last word.

"Aww, that's so cute! Bunch of old weirdos matchmaking teenagers like that's a normal thing they should be doing!" Pyrrha still hadn't quite mastered telling if Nora's tone was in line with her thoughts or if she was just always some variation of cheerful. "But _why_ do they care about this again?"

Apparently, Ren realized the answer, "Wait. Jaune, you're not—I mean, you're an Arc, but you're not the-"

Jaune just became more embarrassed, "Guys, they're kooks, it literally doesn't mean anything."

"They're Royalists, aren't they?" Ren said with a low whistle.

"Wait, what doesn't mean what?" Weiss's tone softened—it seems she didn't know what was going on either.

"Well, uh," Jaune was back to rubbing the back of his neck, "Vale doesn't really have a surviving royal family line, but they, uh, kind of, sort of," his voice was getting higher and faster with each word, "think that the Arc family has the strongest claim to the throne? And ever since my dad died, I'm the oldest male Arc? Butthey'recompletelyirrelevantandtheydon'tknowanythingandthey'rejustnotworthlisteningto, I'msosorryaboutallthis!" By the end, his voice was almost completely indistinguishable from air released from a balloon, as Weiss grabbed him by the front of his shirt to pulled his face down to her level.

Through clenched teeth, she said "So they thought that we were together, because…"

"Probably because they think your family also thinks, and supports, that we have a claim to the throne."

"And they're a pretty conservative group, especially where the Faunus are concerned," murmured Ren, "So it seemed like a pretty advantageous alliance for your father. He backs a return to the monarchy, they help him quash criticism of Schnee company practices in Vale, it's a traditional marriage alliance."

There was a brief pause as everyone tried to take in the meaning of this. Weiss released Jaune, who staggered backwards and fell into his bed. Exhaustion and annoyance were starting to win over Pyrrha's mind, and she was well past the point of dealing with yet another reminder that Weiss had such an advantage over her. Honestly, now international businessmen were trying to set her up with Jaune? "So it's just a weird and awkward story and you have to tell your dad you're not dating Jaune and not to listen to rumors. Got it. Can we get to breakfast now?"

Nora was quick to chime in, "Yeah! Renny and I need pancakes!" But then she took on a sudden contemplative air, "But wouldn't it be crazy if an extremely rich industrialist could give the necessary financial backing to a network of established and influential families to actually reestablish the monarchy? And wouldn't it make sense that an extremely rich man, particularly one who felt insecure in his own wealth and family name, would see tying his family to royalty as the one accomplishment that would prove that he was a worthy Schnee patriarch? Boy, that would just be about the craziest, yet still deeply plausible, thing, wouldn't it?"

Another silence hung over the room as the wheels started turning in everyone's head. As if on cue, two figures popped into the still-open door.

"Hey guys," Neptune Vasilias, in his all-too-practiced-at-playing-it-cool voice that always made Pyrrha immediately suspicious, "Sun's mooching sense just went haywire, wanted to see what was going on."

"I keep telling you, if you call it a mooching sense, they're less inclined to give you stuff."

"Jaune's going to be king!" Nora shouted.

Neptune stepped back. "Whoa, really?"

"Yep!"

"Wow, nice job, man. Real cool!"

Weiss practically screeched at that. "Neptune!"

"I mean… not… cool?" He answered apologetically, "Sorry? I don't know what you want me to say?"

"Wait, what's going on with Vomit Boy?" Another voice was drawn to the commotion.

"He's gonna be-" Nora shouted, but was cut off by Sun.

"Hey! We were here first, we get first dibs."

Yang scoffed. "Uh, no. I heard 'King' and 'Jaune' and if I'm hearing that I have a chance at having a royal wedding, I will -literally- punch out –literally- everyone in this room to get it." Pyrrha would like to see her try. "I've wanted one of those since I was 12."

Ruby's head popped up at the door. "Why?"

"I want my wedding to have, like, 50 horses. And cannons, and, like, a hundred guys in uniform. But don't worry," she patted her sister on the head, "we'll totally get an extremely scandalous divorce afterwards and you can marry him and get to be a princess and all."

Ruby's face took on the color of her namesake. "YANG! I don't wanna be a princess!"

"Pfft, object all you want, I've been to at least five of your birthday parties that suggest otherwise. Also, I don't hear you objecting to-" At that, Ruby started flailing her fists against her sister, only to get pulled back into the hallway in a headlock. Nora raced out of the room, dragging Ren with her, to cheer on the fight. As the room emptied out, Neptune and Sun advanced on Jaune, almost certainly to make some kind of unbelievably dumb request, so Pyrrha neatly moved in to the middle of the room to intercept them. Sun and Neptune were nice enough, but bodily ejecting someone from the room would be a good way to work through some frustration. She really just wanted breakfast, and to move on from this, frankly, disastrously annoying morning. Unfortunately, the brawl in the hallway brought the final member of Team RWBY to stop by.

"Is this the sort of story I want to know, or will I feel dumber for having heard it?"

Weiss and Sun answered at the same time

"Extremely dumb."

"Extremely cool!"

Weiss glared at Sun, who simply kept talking, "Jaune's the king of Vale or something. I dunno, but he's rich or powerful or something now."

"Wait," her eyes blinked rapidly, "_what?_"

"Yeah, I didn't hear the story, but it's probably true! My 'available assets' sense has never been wrong."

In a flash, the faunus girl had somehow snapped right past Pyrrha and grabbed Jaune by the shoulder. "Jaune, is this _true_?"

"Ummm, no?" He wasn't prepared for the question. "I'm not… trying to be? I guess?"

"Jaune! If _you_ are going to be in a _position of authority_ over _anything_ I am going to need you to clearly _and swiftly_ take a stand on-"

"Ahem."

All eyes turned at the stern voice of Glynda Goodwitch. She stood at the doorway, arms crossed, eyes clearly conveying she was none too pleased with the commotion. But to her right was Headmaster Ozpin, standing as aloof and serene as he always was.

"Mr. Arc," Ozpin addressed the teen, "It seems you've been… appraised of some of the situation." He took a sip of coffee. "But first, I would like you to know that Beacon has long depended on the financial support of Vale's government, and I think you'd agree that, should you have future influence on that matter, it's-"

Now it was Professor Goodwitch's turn to shriek "Tell him what we _agreed_ you'd say!"

He chuckled, but then turned serious. "Mr. Arc, we do need to speak with you, privately. If you'd come with me, you've been excused from your classes today."

Jaune, eyes wide and suddenly pale, looked to Pyrrha, who met his gaze with an equal amount of shock. Had it just been other students, it wouldn't have mattered, just another distraction from the usual mixture of adrenaline-and-boredom at Beacon. But if the faculty were stepping in, if there were _private meetings_, then this was something real. This was, well…

Pyrrha swallowed hard. "I'll take notes for you. And!" she suddenly cut in, "It'll be alright, whatever this is. We'll stick by you, no matter what."

Jaune gave a weak laugh, "I mean, we've gone through crazier stuff at Beacon. Right?"

It took all her years of media training to pull together a smile in return.

* * *

She could practically feel the rumor mill buzzing around her as she ate breakfast. Ren and Nora, out of concern for her feelings, tried to get a conversation going about an upcoming test in Oobleck's class, but there was just no way around the fact that the rest of the table was much, much more interested in talking out the possibilities this new piece of insanity offered.

Namely, Blake.

"If we're going to pull this off, we're going to need a real popular movement among Vale's citizens—we've already got moneyed support, so now we've got to look at winning over the crowds. We'll need slogans, organize some rallies, make sure that everyone in Vale knows about this, has an opinion, and has _our_ opinion specifically. So get to thinking slogans—I want something you can chant, something for speeches, something for bumper stickers."

"Are you his press manager now? And when'd you become such an expert about popular referendums?" An annoyed Weiss shot back.

"My time in the White Fang wasn't _all_ about violent resistance, you know," she glared. "I have a lot of experience with organizing protests, distributing petitions, lobbying elected officials…"

"Yeah," Yang added, "all the stuff that didn't work."

Blake ignored her. "And the big lesson I've learned is that, if we want to make this a real thing, we're going to need to go for the lowest common denominator. So, here's what I'm thinking…"

Pyrrha tuned her out. Caffeine hadn't kicked in enough for her to really pay attention, and this whole thing was just too bizarre. Looking around the cafeteria, everywhere she looked, people were shooting furtive glances at her table. She was used to it, the price of being a celebrity, but at the same time, this was different. She's long come to terms that there was nowhere she could go where she wouldn't be an object of spectacle. (Well, that wasn't true. It was never like that with Jaune.) But she wasn't used to her partner now being the target. It wasn't a life he was prepared for, she knew that for certain. _She _still hadn't really adapted to it, and she'd been getting gawkers ever since her first tournament victory. She heard snippets of conversation from the room—Cardin insisting that he'd never recognize "a king I could beat up in my sleep," two girls from Vacuo gossiping that he was to be wed to Weiss or Yang or both—and all of it had a surreal quality that made her wonder if she was still just dreaming and would, shortly, wake up, refreshed and hopeful for a new day, with a weird dream she could joke about with Jaune.

* * *

Alas, not the case.

Classes were a blur. The faculty tried to appear neutral on the issue, to varying degrees of success. Oobleck's lecture had suddenly shifted, by coincidence, he insisted, to the history of Vale's democratic governance, and the importance of egalitarian political rights. Port's approach was more incoherent, but it was some kind of story about saving a princess, and that was probably a Royalist endorsement? But in both classes, it was clear that the subject was something that engaged the faculty as much as the student body.

And with every class, she could feel more eyes on her, more whispers of students trying to work up the courage to ask her for the inside scoop—and the rumors seemed to only get weirder. Crocea Mors apparently could shift into the royal scepter, and he had apparently received it from a woman who lived in a lake. A student from Haven that she didn't recognize was explaining, rather authoritatively, to anyone who'd listen, that Jaune had been partnered with her because she was "the King's sworn protector" who had pledged her life to the royal family at a young age.

The story only seemed to outrage his listener. "He gets Weiss, Yang, _and_ Pyrrha? That's like, incredibly unfair! He's taking all the best girls!"

That seemed to be how the political divide went. Huntsmen weren't an apolitical faction of society, but they were normally social outsiders, only interested in Grimm-related politics, the issues that affected their pay. They were arguably the most meritocratic faction of society and came from diverse backgrounds—Weiss was a wealthy heiress in classes with Ren, a homeless orphan—but they were also excitable teenagers who would grow up to be travelling combatants. Unless they went into politics later in life, they'd never really think about zoning regulations or fiscal policy. The end result was that students made up their mind on the Royalist-Republican divide in terms of, well, fairly shallow reasoning. Cardin, for instance, was the scion of an old and wealthy family, possibly even a _Sang Bleu_ himself, but he personally hated Jaune, so he was a staunch Republican. They were, it seemed, mostly a group made up of men who had some personal issue with Jaune, rather than an ideological issue with kings—the exception was Emerald Sustrai, who had a loud and clear "Kings suck ass!" position, which Pyrrha appreciated for being both a perspective born out of actually politics and one less personally aimed at Jaune.

As for the Royalists, well, this was a group more made up of Pyrrha's friends, but she had a hard time seeing them as any better at the issue. Yang was a staunch supporter of getting to have a royal wedding. Neptune wanted a royal court for balls and other opportunities to meet girls (a statement he made without realizing Weiss could hear him). And Coco had teamed up with Blake on the grounds that a royal court would be an excellent opportunity for the fashion world.

Blake, though, was a mystery. The clear leader of the Royalist faction, even more so than Cardin was for the Republican, and unlike anyone else, she didn't just have an opinion, she had an _agenda_. She recruited people, she advocated and railed and demagogued and made the case, not just for a king, but for _Jaune_ to be king. She supposed she would have felt threatened, but unlike Yang, she didn't seem to have any interest in marrying Jaune, just making sure he was the head of state. Inexplicable, but Pyrrha resolved to finally ask her what she wanted out of it at lunchtime.

Lunchtime already, she realized, and Jaune was still missing.

She approached Blake's table, a hive of activity as people buzzed around Blake as she gave orders and drew up plans. Sun and Velvet seemed to be her lieutenants, taking notes and calling people over for consultation or feedback. Yang was seated amongst the crowd, participating, but likely not helping. Unusually, at the edge of the table, Weiss and Ruby sat far from the rest of their team, uncharacteristically quiet and exceedingly red-faced. The three shared a sympathetic look of "absolutely none of this is how we wanted our day to go," but Pyrrha figured it was best to give it some time before talking to her "rivals." Besides, she needed answers. At the moment, Blake was talking to Coco, who, for reasons Pyrrha couldn't even begin to guess at why she had them, had a series of high-quality photos of Jaune with key elements of his clothing circled.

"I want to keep what we have and see what we can work with from there—try to work around the fact we don't really have that much time to get up to speed. Definitely losing the hoodie, though, that's unsalvageable. But the general look, the hair, the whole… Jaune-ness, we can work with that. He's not some brutal dictator, not some sneering elite, he's your everyday All-Valean boy, a little dorky, a little muscle, not too much of anything, not too threatening. Not weak, but not someone you'd be afraid of. A likeable guy."

"Makes sense," Blake nodded, "He's got a good look for civilians—a Huntsman, so he can protect them, but doesn't really evoke the scary, super powered collateral damage look—think we can do something with his armor? It's an ancestral-" she looked up to see Pyrrha approaching. "Oh, Pyrrha, excellent, you're here. Could you give Velvet a quote about Jaune, something about how great he is, you know, the usual thing when you're talking him up to us? We think your name could swing a lot of support to him."

The rabbit faunus timidly approached her with an audio recorder. "Um, if I could just-"

Pyrrha waved her away. "Blake, why are you doing this?"

She cocked her head, "What do you mean?"

Velvet tried to approach her again with the recorder, only to be more forcefully dissuaded. She kept talking to Blake. "This. Royalism. Why do _you_, of all people, support a king?"

Blake sighed. She stood up, giving some quick instructions to Sun and Velvet, and pulled Pyrrha away from the table. "I'm not going to pass up an opportunity to advance Faunus rights, even if it might seem a little out of character."

"But it's more than a 'little' out of character! Aren't you all about political equality?"

"Hey!" she shot back, "I _am_ about political equality, but Vale isn't Mistral—you probably haven't noticed this, but Valean politics are _backwards._"

Pyrrha blinked at this. She'd never really thought about Vale's politics, being still registered as a resident of Mistral. Her homeland was known for being fiercely argumentative and political, where you regularly debated issues with your friends, family, and neighbors. She knew Vale was more… sedate in their manners, but she assumed that it was mostly the same, just less intense. "How so?"

"Vale is… it's hardly a real democracy. It's an oligarchy, really. Half the votes for Council seats are purely advisory, they're appointed positions that _might_ listen to the will of the people. Other seats are elected, but they're seats dedicated to special interests, or the old families. Overall, actual democratic representation hardly ever matters, because most of the seats aren't even accountable to their constituents. And most people aren't even aware of it, because Valean law is so byzantine and opaque." She seemed disappointed, like Vale had let _her_ down, personally. "So it's not like I'm overthrowing a thriving democratic system. It's one set of unfair, aristocratic systems with another—but this one," her eyes narrowed, "This one will know that _we_ got _him_ that seat—not the Schnee's, not the _Sang Bleu_—and he'll know to support Faunus rights, from whatever he's got, whether it's the bully pulpit or the throne."

"You're… putting a lot of faith in Jaune."

Blake cracked a mysterious smile. "You, of all people, are saying that to me? It's definitely a longshot, but if I know one thing about Jaune—if we give him the opportunity to do the right thing, he'll do it, no matter what."

With that, she turned back to her table, back to the hive, shouting to Sun something about posters.

* * *

Goodwitch opened her class with a very clear statement that there would be no discussion of outside issues—just fights and technique. When Blake stood up in an attempt to make a challenge, the disciplinarian had shot her a glare so withering, she practically collapsed back into her seat.

"I want the first fight to be Pyrrha Nikos and… Russell Thrush!"

This wasn't going to be a tough fight, and Pyrrha knew it. Still, arrogance was the first step to defeat, and the minute she faced an opponent with anything other than total respect for their skills, that'd be the day she got shown up for her hubris. So she took a quick look to assess her opponent as she walked to the ring. He walked in an exaggeratedly casual fashion, the sort of smug step she associated with Team CRDL, but it didn't take someone of her skills to see through it as a charade. Cardin was the only one of his team who actually had the confidence he projected—this was a dead man walking, looking, desperately, for a way to salvage his pride before the fight had even started.

Internally, she sighed. For all her caution about hubris, this fight had been decided in Russell's mind before she'd even entered the ring. She knew a little of his ability, and he looked like a fighter who favored quick, agile strikes—but she also knew that, in a previous match, he'd been simply outclassed by Blake's speed, and, not to brag, but Pyrrha knew she could beat Blake. If she gave it her all, she'd humiliate Russell.

The crowd was noisy as always, though a little put out that it wouldn't have a proper Royalist-Republican match (she could hear a few voices disagreeing on where, exactly, she stood on the issue), but Nora's voice boomed for leg-breaking, Ruby and Yang cheered for her, and she could hear Cardin's usual, artless jeers. In many ways, this was the most normal moment she'd had all day.

It still felt off, though. This was her first match since arriving at Beacon where she couldn't hear Jaune's voice in the crowd.

But Goodwitch had given the signal and years of training kicked in. She might be short of sleep and she might be going through an emotional rollercoaster, but she wasn't The Invincible Girl for nothing. As Russell charged forward, she shifted Miló into rifle mode and fired a few quick shots. He dodged, easily, but that was the point—the weaving slowed his approach, so she herded him into a straight line, a tighter, quicker approach. Thus, he had too much momentum behind his initial feint, and so his attempt to break off the attack left him flat-footed and unprepared for Akoúo crashing into his jaw.

The blow staggered him, as she felt a twinge of guilt—she had overexerted, she had only intended to knock him off his rhythm, but she'd basically ended the match in one blow. He was halfway tipped over, and with a quick roll to his side, she easily swept Miló into the back of his thigh. Again, instead of the force needed to simply trip him, she moved, by reflex, driven by the voice in her head that called for victory in all things, lifting him off his feet and letting him slam into the ring's floor. She shifted again to spear, and pointed it at her downed enemy.

Wasn't even a minute.

"And that is the match. Pyrrha Nikos is the winner."

She admitted, she might have overdone it. "Trial by Nikos," they called it, behind her back, but still, she didn't have to have knocked him down so hard. She chalked it up to being tired and competitive and in a foul mood, but she owed him at least the sportsmanship of helping him up.

She reached out her hand to Russell, sprawled out on the ground, with a gentle smile of "sorry I went too far there."

He spat on her.

She was stunned, dazed. It seemed… just too unreal, as he shouted something about Royalists. She was vaguely aware that Blake had leapt up to yell something as well, but she wasn't hearing words. She wasn't really seeing things, either. She knew she was looking at Professor Goodwitch and she knew she was beyond furious, but she wasn't connecting anything to anything. Ren and Nora had, at some point, come down to her and helped escort her out of the ring and out of the class, but she wasn't sure when or how that happened. Her opponents had hated her before now, but no one had ever- nobody had ever done anything like that.

She needed Jaune. She needed Jaune right now.

As Ren moved to block the door, Nora, eyes welling with compassion, put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in close. "It's okay. You're alone right now, nobody but us is going to see it. You can let it all out here."

So Pyrrha cried.

* * *

She didn't go to dinner. She sat in her dorm while Nora and Ren got food for her—Nora had offered to stay with her, but she was insistent that she needed some alone time. Jaune still wasn't back, and, from the pit of her stomach, she knew he wasn't coming back. Not that she wouldn't ever see him again, but that when she saw him next, he wouldn't be the leader of Team JNPR any more. Even if he finished out the year, the reality of his new position would loom over everything, and it'd be another painful charade for Pyrrha to pretend wasn't going on. Would he have time for her once he was gone? She'd always cherish the time they spent together, from initiation and unlocking his Aura, to training him on the rooftops, but what would she be to him once he was king, with affairs of state and a- and a- a bri-

She couldn't finish that thought. The image of Weiss or Yang or any other girl in a glamorous dress, an image that would be broadcast and plastered all over Vale for weeks was just too painful, even more painful than the degradation she had just endured.

She hated herself for her selfishness, but she would be selfless later. She would be happy for him and be the gracious and supportive partner he would need going forward, into the public eye. But right now, it was time to embrace the misery.

She heard the click of the lock and looked up to see Ren and Nora, back from dinner. She was certain her smile didn't look even remotely plausible, but she felt an enormous weight of gratitude for her friends.

Ren set down a plate of salad and grilled salmon, while Nora dropped a stack of chocolate bars on her desk. "And they were stolen!" She cheerfully added, "From the _exact sort of people_ you wouldn't mind got robbed!" Pyrrha laughed—a genuine laugh—and felt a sudden release of pressure from her mind. The day's myopia briefly lifted and she realized that, no matter what happened, she had two very good, very dear friends, who would be there for her. Unlike any time before in her life, she had people to go to for help.

"So," Ren looked at her, "I assume you'd like to hear some of the gossip?"

On one hand, obviously, she didn't, but on the other, the hand Ren knew just as well as she did, she very much did. She nodded.

Ren sat down on his bed and turned to her. "Blake, Yang, and CRDL all got detention, but I think Blake and Yang won't actually have to serve it—I think Professor Goodwitch was more relieved that they gave her an excuse to punish 'both sides' rather than seem like she had a stake."

"Renny, that's not the good part!" Nora pouted, "You've got to tell her the good part!"

"I'm getting there. Mostly, the drama's quieted down as sides have started to solidify. The factions-"

"EVERYBODY THINKS YOU AND JAUNE SHOULD BE TOGETHER!"

In the ensuing silence, Pyrrha almost fell off her chair twice. First from the volume, then from the realization.

"What?"

"It's Neon Katt," Ren explained, "It's not quite universal, but she's… certainly promoting a secret love story between the two of you."

Pyrrha blushed furiously and looked away from her friends.

"Pyr-_rha_, you've got to tell him! You've gotta, you've gotta, you've gotta!"

"Nora's not wrong. You… really should take the chance."

Pyrrha was a long way from truly grasping the subtleties of Ren and Nora's demeanor, but she knew them well enough to be able to read through Ren's stoicism and Nora's cheer—there was an urgency, an insistence hidden beneath their words. They, too, were thinking the same thing she was. _You have to tell him, so he won't leave us. _Nora had once confided in her that she thought of JNPR as her family, as something so dearly precious to her that she never wanted to lose, and now, well…

Inwardly, she resolved that, whatever she did, whatever she had to do, she'd do it for the sake of her friends. They were too good to her, too important, to let them come to harm. Whatever she needed to sacrifice for Ren and Nora and Jaune, she would do it.

Ren and Nora went on to tell her all about the bizarre theories people had come up with (Sun was apparently trying to pass himself off as a long-lost Arc cousin), Yang's slogans (Pyrrha was fond of "Leave Our Arc on History," but the rest ranged from the questionable, "Are You Afraid of the Arc?" to the bizarre, "Arc Attack"), and how close Blake and Cardin had come to an all-out brawl. She'd also learned that Emerald had pulled a 180, becoming a devout Royalist, a turn that, to Pyrrha, had the unsettling ring of her creepy team leader's influence. They joked and talked for a while, until the exhaustion Pyrrha had been holding at bay since the morning, since before all this started, finally forced her to call it a night.

* * *

But calling it a night didn't mean Pyrrha could sleep. It didn't matter that she was in bed, running on empty, and that Ren and Nora had long since drifted off. She couldn't really call it a night until Jaune was back. If nothing else, her pride wouldn't allow it.

She heard the click of the lock, and her heart stopped beating.

Jaune, slowly and cautiously, slipped through the door, only to catch his shin on the doorframe. Trying to muffle his curses, he proceeded to stumble right into an end table. Pyrrha stifled a giggle.

"Jaune?"

"Oh! Pyrrha! I didn't mean to wake you." He whispered.

"You didn't. I've been- I thought you'd… might want to talk about it when you got back"

He laughed, a sound she hadn't realized how much she'd missed in only a day's absence. "I'd really like to, I would, but… man, I am _dead._" He moved to sit down on his bed. "And Weiss's dad is terrifying."

"I'm sorry you'll… probably have to get to know him better."

He looked at her quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"He's… backing your claim to the throne, right?"

"Oh, that? No, I refused that from the beginning. That's why he was so mad at me."

She couldn't believe it. Her heart stopped again. She couldn't dare believe it. "But, don't you… don't you _want_ to be king?"

"Pyrrha, my dad hated those guys. They're a bunch of rich old jerks who think that the only thing that matters is who your parents are. Guys who'll spend a whole day yelling at a kid because they'd never been told 'no' before. I wasn't raised like that, and I don't want to be anyone like that. If I'm gonna be a big deal," he shot her a winning smile, "I'm going to do it the way you did. The way you're teaching me to do it. By hard work."

She was choked up with emotion. "Jaune, I…"

"Besides, I couldn't leave you behind. Not in a million years."

"For what it's worth… I think you'd make a good king." She smirked. "_My liege._"

"Oh no, don't get that started. I can already hear what Yang's going to do with that."

He wished her goodnight and got ready for bed, but Pyrrha's mind was a blaze of activity. Relief, certainly, but there was something far more pressing on her mind right now. "I couldn't leave you behind." "I couldn't leave _you_ behind." Not "you all," not "JNPR," "_you._"

But now, sleep overcame her, warm and inviting, and she drifted off, in the full hope and wonder of what tomorrow might bring.


	2. Blake

They were taking a break, midway through one of their famous rooftop sparring sessions. Blake could smell the slightly acrid scent of sweat hanging over them as they both laughed at some inside joke one of them had shared. They looked all the world like a pair of dippy, lovestruck teenagers, lost in their own little love story.

Blake had to remind herself that she was looking at the odds-on favorite to win the Vytal Tournament. And… the future king of Vale.

She was used to reminding herself that with Pyrrha, that the person was nothing like her title. There wasn't a trace of arrogance, even as well-deserved as it might be, in her, as much as Blake kept expecting it. That sort of reminder with Jaune, though, was new. She looked him over, legs splayed out as he leaned against the wall. Still... he'd changed. Not just as a Huntsman, making slow, but steady, progress towards something respectable, but in their esteem. People treated him differently, now. He wasn't a joke anymore, and yet… he was still Jaune. Even Weiss had come to admit that, now that he'd spent an entire day standing up to her father and telling him off, there was something even she could call admirable about him.

And Blake, well, she'd practically gotten this whole ball rolling on that day. She certainly said she'd believed in him, in his ability to do good for people. But it hadn't felt real back then, just a piece of the usual Beacon craziness. She could say anything and everyone would forget about it in a week. But now… she had to actively make her choice and stand by it.

Well, she couldn't spend all day just watching them. She took a deep breath, and readied to take the plunge.

"Jaune. Pyrrha."

Jaune glanced up, lazily, but Pyrrha practically shot back into her formal celebrity stance in a panic at getting caught in a casual moment. Blake almost pitied her, and her inability to ever truly relax, even around her friends, but the icy glare she fixed on her for interrupting her personal time with Jaune _was_ annoying. _Make your move or don't, girl._

"I figured you'd want to hear about an update regarding the royal-"

Jaune's smile disappeared. "Blake, I told you back then: I'm not interested. I don't believe in monarchism, and I don't want-"

She held up her hand in front of his face to cut him off. "Jaune, I heard you then, and I respect your opinion. But there's been a new development." Jaune paused at that, and eyed her warily. He'd been extremely clear to her the day after that, while appreciating her support and vote of confidence, he absolutely would not do anything to take up the throne. And she respected that. It was annoying, yes, but she could respect someone's sincere principles, even if they were inconvenient to her. Which made this more difficult. "Not all the _Sang Bleu_ members were as invested in making _you_ king, and it seems that more than a few are still interested in pursuing monarchism, even with you out. And the buzz around you has gotten their interest. There's a faction pushing for establishing an electoral monarchy. And here's the big news: they might be winning."

"Okay…" Jaune answered uneasily, "but doesn't that sound, I dunno, better than making _me_ king? Sounds better to elect a king, weird as it sounds."

Pyrrha sighed, "That's not… how that works, Jaune." Blake knew that Pyrrha was going to be an obstacle to her _full_ plan, but for now, she seemed to realize the bigger issue at hand. Inevitably, the two of them would have to have a long talk about some things, but for now, Blake could see she had an ally on this point, if not any other. "An electoral monarchy isn't a democracy, and it creates unique issues for egalitarianism."

Blake nodded, appreciating that the champion of Mistral carried her people's passion for electoral politics. "An electoral monarchy would mean that the king is selected from a body of electors—mostly wealthy nobles. It emphasizes the powers of a decentralized aristocracy without any protections for the ordinary people of the kingdom."

Jaune just shrugged. "Still not seeing how that's better or worse than putting _me_ in charge of everything." Okay, at some point they'd have to take a stab at getting this self-deprecation in check. Blake had passed the point where it was still cute.

But she knew what her angle was. She looked Jaune in the eye and played her hand. "What if I told you that the key noble family behind this was the Winchesters?" Jaune, as expected, froze at that name. "It's not Cardin, but it's not better. It's his father. Apple didn't fall far from the tree, and it's certainly got the Faunus community worried. Besides," she gave him a smile she hoped looked reassuring, "a constitutional monarchy isn't like an absolute monarchy. You're head of state, not head of the government—you could still do so much good for the people of Vale even in a symbolic role, and as a Faunus… I've learned that I don't have the _privilege_ of taking principled stands when the other option is putting _his_ old man on the throne."

There was a sympathetic pang that cut across his face, especially with that last line. But Jaune still looked uncertain at what she was proposing. It made sense—she could sell him on the comparative value of a constitutional monarch, but Jaune's issues couldn't be resolved by realpolitik. She couldn't account or declaim her way out of this; it was a matter of personal psychology. His question was simple: why should _he_ be king?

"But the real reason, Jaune…" her voice was low now, not for rhetorical emphasis, but the simple, honest truth that she had been legitimately humbled by this experience, "You… weren't on the grounds, on that day, and I know you've been trying to let this all pass, so you haven't been following up on things, but… a lot of people really believed in you, Jaune. There's a lot of us who think you'd make a good king."

He looked pained at the sincerity of her words, but Blake was now watching Pyrrha's reaction. Nobody at Beacon had a higher opinion of Jaune than his partner, but Blake knew Pyrrha was… ambiguous that day on whether she supported Jaune on this. She seemed apprehensive, but she also saw something in her eyes, that glimmering spark of her faith in her partner. "Jaune…" she started, slowly, a blush forming across her face, "She's not wrong. It's your choice of course," she quickly corrected, "But… I don't think you realize how many people… really did think you'd make a good king."

As oblivious as Jaune was every other day of the year, Blake got the feeling from the matching blush he now wore that he was reading between the lines there. "I…"

A good sign, but Blake did not have time for awkward teenage romance when politics were on the line.

"The situation" she announced, "is this: there are two special initiatives. They're… weird, like all Valean politics, but the short of it is, one establishes a constitutional monarchy under the Arc line, the other, an electoral monarchy. If either gets at least 50% and one vote, they're the law of the land."

"What if both pass?" Pyrrha asked.

"Decided by sword duel." Jaune boggled at that. "What? I told you Vale's politics were weird. The constitution contradicts itself in half a dozen ways on this and nobody's quite sure what that means, but a rough framework's been established for this case."

He sighed. "Well, I guess winning a fight wouldn't be a crazier job than winning an election. Still," he looked at her quizzically, "feels weird that we're _voting_ for a _king._"

Blake shrugged. "Technically, the people of Vale are voting to request you and your family step in to take charge of the government. But before you make your decision, I think there's some people you might want to talk to," she gestured that they should follow behind her as she turned to leave, "I've assembled a team of people who are invested in seeing you succeed in this. Meet them—then tell me what you think."

Jaune looked to Pyrrha, who gave him a small, almost imperceptible, nod. He looked back to Blake, a small, apprehensive look creeping across his face, but he suppressed it under a smile. "Alright, I'll hear 'em out."

* * *

Blake didn't know what Jaune expected, but he certainly didn't seem surprised when he saw Nora, in a suit and dark sunglasses, standing besides a door to a Beacon conference room. She supposed that shouldn't surprise her—he'd probably long since learned to expect anything when it came to Nora.

She put a finger to her earpiece. "Ren, this is The Falcon. The Falcon is inbound, with The Falcons."

Pyrrha stared at her teammate for a second. "…Is 'The Falcon' everyone's codename? That seems… confusing."

She laughed. "No, silly! Not _everyone's._ Ren's codename is 'Ren!'"

"But everyone _else_ has the same codename?" Jaune clarified.

"Well, yeah," she replied, slightly confused, as though her naming decisions were obvious, "I'm not going to give my best friends a lame codename."

"Fascinating as this conversation is," Blake drawled, "I think it's time to meet the rest of the team." And with that, she opened the door.

Beacon had a number of conference rooms that could be reserved through either a labyrinthine process or just taking one and assuming nobody would stop you. Blake preferred the latter. And so she had gathered a trusted inner circle now arranged around a table, the executive staff of her plan to restore the Monarchy of Vale.

Jaune gawked to see it, but she'd been hoping for that. Jaune didn't back down when he knew people were counting on him. "You know most of the team. Nora's your bodyguard, Ren," his dark haired teammate nodded when he heard his name, "is your speechwriter. He already has a few drafts for you to look over should you announce today. Weiss is our treasurer," she gestured to the Atlesian girl, seated so stiffly that she looked even more like an icicle than she usually did.

She fixed him her iciest stare. "I'm only doing this to show up my father, and," her voice dropped to a half-mumble and Blake saw the trace of a blush across her cheeks, "because I think you might actually be a good leader," but then her voice snapped back to her usual, brusque tone, "so you'd better not think you can use this to ask me out, okay!"

Jaune, panicked, nodded. It had taken a while for Blake to win Weiss over to the team, and that last note had been the key demand. "She'll be handling our books as well as being your liaison for our wealthier backers. And," here was the tough one, "I don't believe you've met her before, but we needed someone to handle the unexpected aspects of campaigning, our spin doctor, if you will. Jaune, this is Cinder Fall."

She felt Pyrrha stiffen as Haven's resident _femme fatale _reached her hand out to Jaune. "Charmed. I was quite impressed by your willingness to stand up to Atlesian power. Vale could use someone who won't be so easily pushed around."

"And I am your campaign manager," Blake opted to cut in. She didn't want to give Cinder too much time to get her hands on Jaune—no need to have that fight now. "This will be your inner circle, your senior staff for the campaign. Our job is to ensure that you take up your title, and look good while doing it."

Jaune still seemed overwhelmed, nodding to what she was saying. But he seemed to regain some of his sense looking around the room. "Okay… but what's Sun doing here?" He pointed to the monkey Faunus sitting at the far side of the table.

"Sun Wukong," he, for some reason, re-introduced himself as he stretched his arm out for a handshake, but then, before Jaune could actually shake his hand, jabbed his thumbs back to point at himself. "I'm your body double!"

Blake tried to pull him away. "Body doubles have to wear a shirt, Sun."

And yet, he was undeterred. "Special advisor on Vacuan relations!"

"Still have to wear a shirt."

"Food taster!"

Cinder moved into the conversation so smoothly, it almost seemed like she materialized next to her and Jaune. "We've discovered that ejecting Mr. Wukong from the room was only the first step of Mr. Wukong sneaking back into the room. It's best to just accept that he'll be involved in some capacity."

That got a laugh. But before the laughter had fully died down, Blake was surprised to hear Pyrrha speak up, in a firm, quiet voice. "And what will my role be?"

She hadn't expected that from Pyrrha. Jaune, she knew, would side with his friends if they asked him to help. But she had anticipated that Pyrrha would need to be won over, not that she'd be so quick to take up her own role. "Jaune, Pyrrha will be your Chief of Staff. We needed to make sure you had someone you could trust in that position, and," she noticed a glimmer in Pyrrha's eyes, "I don't think there's anyone at this school you trust more."

Jaune looked at his partner, nervousness mixed with admiration, "If… if you'd take the role, Pyr," she suppressed a smirk as his voice grew slightly hoarse, "I don't think there's anyone I'd rather have with me." Well, if he was accepting a CoS, it seemed like they'd won him over. Pyrrha, at a loss for words, just nodded. They were too damn cute together. Blake particularly enjoyed that, for once, it wasn't getting in her way.

"Well, if that's all figured out," Cinder cut in, "Our King-to-be has work to do. We need to get you to Coco, who's agreed to make you something presentable for a press conference. Weiss and Ren will brief you on your announcement speech—it's nothing big, you'll do fine—now, hurry," she said, shooing him out of the room. Blake watched as a gaggle quickly formed around the suddenly overwhelmed young man—Ren and Weiss with notes, Sun trying to also give notes, Nora trying to deflect Sun, but they all swiftly moved out of the room and to the first real step of the campaign.

She caught Pyrrha's arm as she tried to follow them. "Pyrrha, a moment?" Now, she was alone with Pyrrha. Well, Cinder was also there, but that worked in her favor. This was going to be difficult—she didn't mind having someone underhanded to back her up.

Pyrrha eyed her warily. She might have been won over to their cause by a mix of appealing to her overworked sense of duty and a decent helping of overt flattery, but she wasn't stupid. Blake knew that she'd gotten lucky in that she didn't need to bring any pressure, but a campaign was a long haul. And Pyrrha had Jaune's ear more than anyone—if she felt she'd been misled, she could so easily tear down everything Blake was trying to do.

"We're asking a lot of you," she started, "The three of us, we'll be the ones really running this campaign, and I want you to know that's what you're signing up for."

"We're running the campaign?" she shot back, skeptically, "And Jaune?"

"Jaune's our _candidate_," she lectured. Technically, Jaune wasn't even that—they were a committee to reestablish the monarchy and whether or not Jaune was part of it, or even supported them, was irrelevant, but there was no wisdom in telling Pyrrha that. "He's got to be likable and approachable 24/7. He'll have speeches, meet and greets, scheduled and unscheduled meetings with officials and members of the press. He has the final say on that, but he's not going to have _time_ to handle anything more than the broad strokes and executive decisions. And even on those, he's going to be coming to us for advice."

Pyrrha's eyes had that intensity Blake recognized from Goodwitch's class. It wasn't a reassuring sight to see, and now her voice was brusque, businesslike. "I'm not a politician," she replied, stiffly, "But if you think I'm going to let you two make him into your puppet…"

She was relieved to hear Cinder cut in. "That's _why_ you're here, Pyrrha. You're Chief of Staff: you control his time, you approve his schedule, you decide who has his ear. You don't need to know policy, but you have to be someone who he can trust. You're here because he _needs_ you," now Cinder was on the offensive, and Blake had to admire her directness. She could see that she had made a good decision bringing her onto the team: Cinder was in her element here, and she was damn good at bringing Pyrrha back around. "Like it or not, we're about to put him into the stressful, isolating world of national politics and, frankly, _we are not his friends._ Our job is to make sure he wins. We do what we have to do for that. Your job is to protect him."

That last line seemed to hit home. Pyrrha swallowed, nervously, her former severity now dissolved into girlish indecision. Blake wasn't particularly close to Pyrrha, but she did genuinely admire the girl. Honestly, she _liked _her. She didn't want to put her out of her comfort zone, but… there was too much riding on this. This was a matter of history, but even more so, this could trigger a seismic shift in the standing of Faunus rights as a global issue. She needed to win, and for that, she needed Pyrrha.

"Pyrrha," she started, "We need your help. We need Jaune, not just as our candidate, we need him to succeed. And to do either of those, we need your help. For Faunus rights, for the people of Vale, to keep Cardin's dad off the throne, I don't know what reason might stick with you. But I know you won't let Jaune get hurt and _that's _what we need right now. More than anything."

Pyrrha stared into her eyes, their emeralds burning with an intensity almost enough to make her take a step back. But Blake held her ground. She'd said her piece, and now it was time to see if they had her support or not.

"I'm in."

* * *

She rewound the footage back to the beginning and hit play for what felt like the hundredth time. As though she'd see anything different this time than any of the others. Blake didn't even know what she was looking for at this point—some mistake, she guessed, some hidden error that'd cost them everything months later. But as she watched Jaune's speech to the press, well… nothing was wrong. It was… rough, sure, but honest. Sincere. Some of his platitudes were vague, but she'd wanted it that way. He'd done a better job than she had expected, but even that wasn't enough to make Blake feel at ease.

When she was a kid, she remembered how much she idolized her mom and dad, sitting with a dozen other Faunus leaders around their tiny dinner table. They used words she didn't know, but sounded so important, alongside all sorts of names and places she struggled to piece together, her ear pressed to the door. There were arguments and agreements and, above everything else, a sense of some grand _strategy_, that everything was being figured out. There were scary times, when protestors would get beaten, houses got bombed, or when her parents would get detained, or even arrested, sometimes for _days_, when she wasn't sure what was going on or what would happen next. But around that dinner table… it felt like there was a plan. That everything was going to work out.

And when she painted signs, played with other kids outside town hall meetings, or clung to her mother's leg as she collected signatures, she knew she was part of something bigger. Something worthwhile. And she knew that, one day, she'd be the one sitting at the head of the table, figuring things out. When she and Adam planned heists, it felt right, because she knew it was in service to the larger cause. Even if she now knew that cause had been hijacked to wrong ends. This was her chance to do it right, to live up to the example of her parents. To be a real leader.

She wondered if they ever felt as lost as she did now.

"You can watch it a hundred times, but I don't think it's going to change."

She didn't even turn around. "What do you want, Cinder?" she asked, writing down a note for Ren about emphasizing the phrase "historic opportunity" in future speeches. They should emphasize that this is a _moment_, a thing that will be recorded in history books, that you'll remember being a part of decades from now.

She heard the woman take a seat next to her. She didn't dislike Cinder, even if most of her friends were a little off-put by her. She had a healthy respect for the woman's keen political senses and openness about her ruthlessness. It was the respect she'd have for a shark, though—let it do the thing it does so well, but don't be surprised if it ain't pretty and don't forget to keep a healthy distance. But Cinder seemed to understand, even welcome, that kind of respect. "I didn't want to work the phones, not when I can delegate that work to Emerald and Mercury."

"He must be loving this," she mused.

Cinder chuckled at that. "Yes, and it is _very_ funny to make him squirm," Blake couldn't resist a small grin at that. She could imagine Mercury's ego struggling to have to talk up another man, especially one who was becoming increasingly popular with the Huntresses he clearly felt entitled to. "But I actually wanted to speak with you of a strategic matter related to our campaign."

_Here it is, _Blake thought as she made a point to keep writing in her notebook. She jotted down a question for Coco if there was anything they could do about his hair (knowing that obviously they couldn't) and hoped that her silence would convey to her to just say what she wanted so Blake could shoot it down and they could move on.

"It's about our Queen question—I think we might want to think more _aggressively _on that, as I anticipate-"

"Putting your hat in the ring, Cinder?"

Cinder laughed, but Blake knew the difference between real humor and a rhetorical gambit. "No, I don't think our boy King might _survive_ a relationship with me."

Blake had to admit that did get a smile out of her. She would give her credit: for all Cinder's guile, she was, in her own way, an admirably honest woman. "Well, Weiss is out, we know that, and forcing the issue puts us on thin ice with Pyrrha, who we've _both_ agreed is someone we're not risking. So I don't think we really have that much to discuss right now."

"Well, surely we should be thinking of a Royal Marriage in terms of political alliance. It can do a lot for his weakness on foreign policy."

"Once Atlas gets a King again, I'll be sure to see if he has any daughters," she replied dryly.

"Do we really need to wait? After all, I seem to recall that the _Chieftain of Menagerie_ does have a daughter?"

Her fingernails dug into the armrests as the hairs on the back of her neck stood right up. She snapped her head over to look at Cinder, who, judging from that satisfied smirk, had evidently gotten the reaction she'd been fishing for when she dropped Blake's secret like that. She scowled. "What do you _want_ Cinder?"

"Nothing," she purred, "nothing other than what we all want. To make that man," she pointed to Jaune, speaking on the screen, "the King of Vale. Everything else is just… advantage."

She stared at the woman with an unsettling sense of horror growing in her. Her calm, almost amused delivery as she revealed she knew who Blake really was conveyed everything: _I know who you are, I know your secrets, but I'm not doing anything. Yet._ She knew Cinder wasn't like the rest of them: she was an older student, who nobody seemed to know anything about, and always seemed to be searching for an angle. She was crafty, strategic, and clearly someone with her own agenda. Blake knew that, from the beginning. She was the one who went to Cinder, after all. But now she realized she was seeing the reality of what she'd sought, feeling the shark bearing down on _her_, and she… wasn't sure if she liked it anymore.

She fixed her face into something resembling annoyance. "Fine," she snapped, "Like I told you before, as long as you don't interfere with the campaign, whatever you're after, I'm not getting in your way. If that's what you wanted to hear, then-"

She was fortunately cut off from the familiar sound of a teenage girl slamming into a doorframe at top speed.

"Ruby do you need-"

"Weiss… sent me!" she panted out. Blake raised an eyebrow at that—it wasn't rare to see Ruby overexert herself in excitement, but this much was rare, and seemed to suggest that she'd really pushed herself to get there _fast_, even by her standards. She braced herself on the frame and continued, "Phones… going crazy. Everyone's excited… People really like Jaune!" She gave the both of them a wild, thrilled smile. "Weiss wanted you to know… we've already got Council endorsements!"

Well.

That was the plan, wasn't it? That was what they had hoped for, right? The speech was good. Well received. Weiss didn't think they needed a fallback plan or damage control—they needed to swing for the fences, to push the advantage. She looked up to Ruby, practically beaming with excitement, "Ok. Tell Weiss I'm on it. I'll… be down there shortly."

And then, in a burst of rose petals, she was gone. Blake and Cinder exchanged a glance—Cinder more bemused and Blake more apprehensive, but the both of them had the same thought in mind: _Now it's happening. Now we're here. So what's the next step?_

Blake opened a binder she had on the table, already prepared for the next step. In spite of how much work she spent developing this, of telling herself to prepare for success, it still felt unreal. There was work to be done. Messages to be sent, meetings to be had with key members of the team.

"Cinder, I want to capitalize on this moment, and I want to send Winchester _reeling_." Despite the earlier needling, Blake knew there was no point wasting Cinder's talents. Keep the shark pointed away from her and deal with whatever she wanted later. "Keep it clean, but if you don't tell me what you're doing to achieve that, I won't ask any questions."

"Consider it done." She smiled, but this one seemed… neither false nor predatory. Like a sign of camaraderie. Whatever they had between them earlier, they were here to win.

They had work on their hands. One good speech wouldn't be enough. Journalists would want interviews. Volunteers would need direction. There were rallies to plan, endorsements to secure, and policy statements to draft. And… Jaune would need guidance. And he was damn lucky he had Blake for that. She'd been born to politick, raised at rallies, and had all the tools she needed to change the course of a nation.

She had work to do.

He _would_ be King.


End file.
